by Amo Jones
“Bishop?” I narrow my eyes. “Did you guys know he’s my brother? My twin?”
Bishop’s focus snaps straight to me before going back to Damon. “Et nuntiatum est illi?”
“Stop fucking talking in Latin!” I yell, annoyed with everyone even though the way the syllables roll off Bishop’s tongue has my lady bits tingling. “Did you both know?” I repeat, looking toward Bishop and Nate.
“Yes,” Bishop answers, dropping his hoodie to sit around his neck. He cranks his shoulders, rolling them out before looking back to Damon. “But that doesn’t mean shit. You shouldn’t trust him.”
“Why?” I scoff. “Like I shouldn’t have trusted you?”
His mouth snaps closed. “That’s different.”
I roll my eyes and look back to Damon. “Go into my room. I’m okay. I’ll handle it.”
Damon pauses then nods. “Okay.” He turns and walks back to my room, and I shut Nate’s door, spinning around to look at both boys. “The fuck is your problem?”
“Madison,” Nate says, his tone empty of any humor. This is Nate’s serious voice, and usually I take it seriously, but they need to trust me now.
“No, Nate. I trust him. He’s not going to hurt me.”
Nate steps toward me, but Bishop’s hand comes up to his shoulder, stopping him. He looks toward Bishop, and Bishop shakes his head. “I’ll handle this.”
I swallow.
Bishop walks toward me, his finger hooking under my chin to nudge my head up. He looks down, towering over me. “First thing I’m going to say is that when I say you don’t trust someone, Madison, I usually mean you don’t fucking trust someone. Second thing? Do you know what the Lost Boys’ job is, Madison? What their main job is? What Katsia is? Who she is?” His fingers spread over my cheeks as he pushes me backward until I hit the wall behind me. He drops his tone, his hand squeezing my cheeks so tightly my lips pucker. “I’m so fucking angry at you, Kitty. I don’t know whether I should fuck you or kill you or both,” he whispers angrily, his lip curled and his breath falling over mine. My heart pounds in my chest.
Oh, God. I’ve really pissed him off. Usually, I enjoy this, but not when I see the anger lingering in his eyes. That anger is a caged beast, seconds away from breaking free.
“Of course I don’t know, Bishop.” I nudge my head, trying to get my face out of his grip, but he doesn’t budge. Instead, he steps in between my legs and pins my waist to the wall with his, feeling his cock push into my stomach.
Narrowing my eyes, I look down to his perfect lips. “You don’t tell me shit.”
His jaw tenses, and then a smirk licks the corner of his mouth. But it’s not a nice smirk. This is Bishop’s other smirk. The one I saw when he slit Ally’s throat. Fear whistles through my bones, just lightly. Enough to make me brace myself for what’s to come.
He brings his mouth to my ear. “When I fucking say don’t trust someone, Madison. You don’t trust them.”
“What do they do?” I ask, closing my eyes.
Please don’t say what I think you’re going to say.
“Lost Boys?” Nate grins, walking up behind Bishop. “Who do you think takes care of the little Swans, Madison?”
“Take care?” My eyebrows furrow. I look to Nate, his grin not changing. My stomach curls in disgust as realization sinks into my thought process. “Oh my God.”
Bishop’s hand moves from my face to my throat, and he squeezes slowly. “Gotta say, this is getting my dick hard like nothing. It’s a dangerous thing you have me feeling, Kitty. The angrier you make me, the more I want to fuck you until you’re so fucking bruised that you feel the wrath of my anger for weeks after.”
“But… but he won’t hurt me.” I ignore his sick innuendo.
“Oh?” Nate scoffs, walking to the little bar fridge he has in the corner of his room, pulling out a bottled water. He looks to me in disbelief. “What? Because you’re fucking blood? That doesn’t mean shit, Madison. He’s not a good person. He is probably here to obtain you—ever think of that?” Nate tosses the bottle onto his bed and walks back toward Bishop—who hasn’t released my throat—and me.
“What about Katsia?” I ask. “Who the fuck is she and what does she play in this game? She’s obviously the descendant of the Katsia in The Book—sorry,” I correct myself, “Tacet de Mortues.” In a flash, Bishop squeezes tight and slams me up against the wall again. “Who the fuck told you that?”
“What?” I wheeze out. “Let go, Bishop!”
He loosens his grip, but when I look into his eyes, I see it. That same caged beast. This is the other side to Bishop I’m talking with right now, and I’m not sure I like it anymore.
“Bro.” Nate notices Bishop’s shift. “Step back.”
“Fuck off, Nate.”
Nate looks to me and then to Bishop, knowing he can’t say anything. Bishop loosens his grip and I nod at Nate, signaling he’s released it.
I stretch my neck. “Do that again, and I’ll knee you in the nuts, grab my .45, and shoot your fucking hand clean off.”
Bishop smirks, his tongue running over his bottom lip. “You do that…” His eyes dance in mischief—black magic kind of mischief. “…and I’ll wash your hair with my blood while you choke on my dick.”
“More like I’ll bite it off,” I mutter, challenging the devil himself.
“Naw, baby. You and I both know you love it too much.”
“Fuck you. I’ll cut it off and make you watch as I fuck—”
“As excited as I am about this very disturbing and very sick dirty talk—” Nate looks between Bishop and me. “—seriously, y’all need help—we have a very serious matter that is currently sitting in the next room.”
I shove Bishop, and he steps up to me again in challenge, his chest brushing against mine, bringing my nipples to life. Fuck. Why do both our hormones have to feed on hate? I’m fucked.
I bring my palm to Bishop’s chest, narrowing my eyes at him. “Anyway.” I look toward Nate. “Okay, so what does Katsia play in this? In the book, she was good.”
“She, being the original, yes,” Nate murmurs, taking a seat on the end of his bed. “But this one… no.”
“Who is she? This one, I mean.”
“In short,” Bishop says, finally getting out of my bubble and grabbing the water bottle Nate tossed onto the bed. “She’s—realistically speaking—on our side. She’s not a part of The Kings, but Katsia’s family have played this role for generations. The one in the book, she started the original Lost Boys.”
“The original Lost Boys? But wouldn’t that mean she agreed to get rid of the Silver Swans?” I ask, confused. “That makes no sense, because she was always… not like that.”
“No,” Nate interferes. “That wasn’t the original purpose for the Lost Boys.”
“What was?” I ask them both.
“How far are you into the book?” Nate asks, looking up at me from under hooded eyes.
“11. Why can’t you guys just tell me? Fuck.”
“No,” Bishop shakes his head, “it’s important you read it. We all had to.”
“What?” I scoff, sliding down the wall and taking a seat on the hard floor. “You guys all read it?”
They both nod. “After initiation, that was what we had to do.”
“That’s fucked up,” I whisper, looking off into the distance. “When did my life get so messed up? It’s always been messed up, but the more I discover about it, the more questions I have.” I look back to both of them. “Will this ever be over?”
They look back at me. “No.”
“Well, thanks,” I mutter dryly. “Can we just… give Damon a chance? What if he really is on my side, huh? And you guys knock him off when he really could have been helpful!”
“Not taking the chance,” Bishop says instantly.
“I wasn’t asking you, so sh—”
“Watch your fucking mouth. Everything that has to do with the Kings, Madison, goes through me. Everything to do with you also
happens to go through me. So whether you like it or not, you go through me. So you may as well do it on your hands and knees with your ass in the air like a good little kitty,” he hisses through a smug grin.
“The kitty has claws, so I’d watch it,” Nate warns.
Having about enough of Bishop’s smartass mouth, I tilt my head. “I don’t remember her scratching last night.” I smirk at Nate, and he looks back to me, his eyes wide, slowly shaking his head. He brings his hand up to his throat, making a cutting motion for me to stop. Too late, I’ve committed. Swinging my eyes back to Bishop, his jaw now clenched. “Oh no,”—it’s my turn to smirk now—“if I remember correctly…” I pretend to look up to the ceiling, thinking about what I’m going to say next. “…there was a shower… a towel…. Wait!” I throw my hand up and chuckle. “No,” I laugh forcefully, looking back to Bishop, my grin wide and my mouth slightly open. “That’s right. There was no towel. Just a whole lot of… grinding… kissing… and—”
“Now, bruh, I can explain.” Nate quickly gets to his feet, stepping backward with his hands up. “That was not how….” Nate looks to me, his stare evil. “Why you have to open your fucking mouth?” he grounds through gritted teeth.
I smirk.
Nate looks back to Bishop, who is looking directly at Nate with so much hate it makes what he was giving Damon seem like child’s play.
Rolling my eyes, because I actually love Nate and don’t want to plan his funeral—just yet—I interrupt. “Calm down, Bishop. It was a hard night, and you can’t say shit.”
“Oh really?” Bishop looks to me. “Because I don’t remember the last time I was sucking face with another girl since you, Mads, so fill me in here. Is that what I need to do? Start fucking around so you fucking get where I’m coming from?”
“Bishop,” I stand to my feet, “you’re being ridiculous. We’re not together. Never have been! You’re the one who said all that ‘no labels’ bullshit at the lake.”
“Didn’t know I had to outline ‘don’t be a slut,’ Madison.”
“I’m not a fucking slut!” I yell. “I haven’t slept with anyone but you, so fuck you!”
Bishop shakes his head. “Nah, you just like making guys think they can fuck you.”
“Fuck—”
“Enough.” Damon walks in, shoving his hands into his pockets, still wearing the pants he wore earlier, which reminds me why I’m actually in this room. I turn back to the closet and flick the light on, pulling Nate’s clothes out and tossing them over my shoulder.
“What are you doing?” Nate asks, coming toward me. I fight down the tears that threaten to surface. Truthfully, I had no idea Bishop thought of me in that way. I knew he cared, but not so much that he’s willing to use it as a weapon during an argument. My heart feels like it’s been shanked with a blunt steak knife and then ripped up to my throat.
Swallowing my emotions, I swipe the stray tears that fell off my cheeks. Fucker made me cry, but I probably asked for it. When you fall for the devil, make sure you don’t land facedown with his horns stabbed through your heart. “I’m getting something for Damon to wear.”
I feel Nate crouch down beside me, leaning over my shoulder. “Hey—”
“Leave me alone,” I whisper, grabbing some sweatpants and a plain white shirt. Admittedly, Nate doesn’t have much else aside from assorted ripped jeans and tees.
“No, fuck that. What’s wrong? Bishop?” he whispers.
“Everything, Nate. None of this shit makes any sense to me. I feel like I’m slowly losing my mind.”
Nate chuckles, and I don’t know how, but it takes a little dark smoke out of my feels. “We’ve all lost our mind, baby, but that’s how we all found each other. We’re all lost, but we’re all lost on the same road.”
I look to him; Nate actually making sense. I giggle, sniffling. “There are not a lot of times you’ve made a hell of a lot of sense, Riverside. But you did just then.”
“We’re pirates, baby. It’s what we do. Now get your bad self up, take whatever you want, but make sure that fucker doesn’t ruin any of my clo—For the record,” he interrupts himself, “I still don’t trust him. But I’m going to trust you, on one condition.”
I nod, gripping onto the clothing and internally thanking whoever is listening that he has agreed. I mean, I would have done it anyway, but having Nate agree just means I get to go make something to eat before the sun comes up.
“Our doors are to stay open. He sleeps on the floor, and later today, he is to sit down and tell us all he can.”
I look over Nate’s shoulder at Damon, who is watching Bishop closely. Bishop, who hasn’t taken his eyes off me. I ignore him, looking back to Nate, and nod. “Deal.”
Nate gets to his feet, holding his hand out to me and helping me up. “Grilled cheese? I can hear your stomach from here.”
I exhale, leaning my head on his shoulder, feeling every muscle loosen. “Yes. Fucking God, yes.”
Walking out of the closet, I toss Damon the clothes. “Go and get changed. I’ll bring you something to eat.”
He smiles, taking the clothes and disappearing back into my room. I look at the alarm clock Nate keeps beside his bed, noting the time is 2:00 a.m. Damn, we were really talking that long? When my eyes connect with Bishop’s, I mutter, “I’ve lost my appetite.”
Nate pulls me into him. “Naw, don’t mind him.” He sends Bishop a wink. “He just doesn’t like others playing with his toys.”
“I’m not his toy.”
“I’m right here,” Bishop grunts.
“Really?” I say sarcastically. “Because I don’t see you.”
“Okay, Kitty,” Nate chuckles, tucking me under his arm. “You’re not you when you’re hungry. Let’s go.”
“OKAY, THAT’S IT,” TATUM ANNOUNCES, trying to tear into her packet of crackers. “I want to know 100 percent of what is going on. It’s not fair!” she whines.
“Don’t do that.” I rub my temples, still tired after the shit for sleep I got on Saturday night. “I seriously have so much going on right now.”
“I know,” Tatum whispers, giving up on trying to tear open her pack of carbs. “Remember? I was there.”
“There’s more. God.” I sit back. “There’s so much more, but I don’t even know where to start and what to tell you because I already know you’re going to have more questions. Questions I don’t know the answers to.” I exhale and open my mouth, just about to continue, when I see the Kings walk into the cafeteria out the corner of my eye. Tatum picks up her unopened crackers again when she sees them all walk in. “Now I need carbs.”
Bishop takes a seat beside me, and Nate goes on the other side as the rest of the boys squeeze in next to Tatum and Bishop.
“I don’t remember calling you over,” I snark.
“No need.” Nate grins, biting into his apple.
Rolling my eyes, I look back at Tatum to see her staring at something over my shoulder. Her mouth is agape, cracker in the midair.
I inch my head over my shoulder to see what she’s looking at when my mouth slams closed. “Excuse me,” I murmur, getting off my seat and making my way toward Damon. He’s standing there in some of Nate’s clothes—loose jeans, black tee, and white high-top sneakers. It’s all Nate, since I still haven’t found time to get Damon his own.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, watching as everyone stares at him.
What on earth are they staring at? I know he’s funny-looking, but now people are just being rude. Or maybe I just think he’s funny-looking because he’s my brother. I wouldn’t know.
“I need to talk to you.”
“Talk.”
He takes my arm and pulls me back through the girls hallway. Waiting for a couple of people to walk past, his voice drops. “Katsia wants to meet with me.”
“What? How do you know?” I whisper back, smiling to a girl who is in my English class as she passes by, looking at us suspiciously.
“Obviously because I’ve lef
t. Have you read any more of the book?” he asks urgently.
“No, I haven’t found time, and why does she want to meet with you?”
“Find time to read. Because she need me.” He pushes off the wall and walks back down the hallway then out the front doors.
“Well goodbye to you too!” I yell toward him as the doors slam shut.
Walking back into the cafeteria, I head to my chair, pulling it out and taking a seat.
“What’d he want?” Bishop inquires beside me.
I ignore him.
“Who is he?” Tatum asks, her eyes searching him out.
“My brother and he’s gone.”
Her attention snaps to me. “What? How?” She lowers her voice. “Madison…?”
“As I said earlier,” I reply, tossing my salad around with my fork, “I have a lot to tell you.”
“You’re not telling her shit,” Bishop snaps, looking at me.
I finally acknowledge him. He’s so close—too close to me—that I can almost feel his breath fall over my lips. “And I said you can’t tell me what the fuck to do, Bishop.”
He chuckles, tossing a carrot in his mouth—my carrot. “Oh, Madison. You have no idea the kind of things that tone does to me.”
I’m just about to open my mouth to say something else, when Nate interrupts, “Anyway!” He looks between both of us, his eyes wide like he’s scolding a couple of toddlers. “Tatum is fine, B. She knows almost everything else that has happened.”
“Not everything,” I mutter under my breath.
Tatum cuts her glare to me. “Oh? What else don’t I know? Hmm?”
Pushing my chair back, I get to my feet, picking up my tray. “I’m done. I’ll see you later.” Walking out the atrium doors, I make my way toward PE. I’m halfway down the corridor when I decide I don’t want to even be at school right now. Turning around, I start heading to the elevator that leads down to the student parking lot when a thought pops into my head. I haven’t seen Miss Winters since I’ve been back.
Turning back around again, I jog toward the library, pushing open the large wooden doors. The smell of dusty old books hits me, and I inhale, relishing in the familiar scent. It has to be my favorite aroma, aside from whatever Bishop wears. Usually. Not right now, because right now I hate him. Bypassing the two quiet students who are studying, I make my way to the front desk.